A Different Canvas In Dinagsa Festival

lastleaf — Thu, 4 Apr 2013 15:22:00 GMT

The heat above my head has seeped into the center of my skull. And, I was like a child hiding behind my shoulder-tall friend as we were walking on the crowded street of Cadiz City in Negros Occidental, Philippines. Not because of the heat – no. I was trying to evade all the kaleidoscopic hands that threaten to paint me rainbow on a hot, humid mid-morning I kept myself unnoticed, made sure I was surrounded by my friends when out of nowhere in a what seemed to be inevitable circumstance, I saw a charcoal-blacked hand heading my way and it felt cold, clammy, sticky and the smell of sour milk and desperation rolled into one instantly landed on my face. Spot on - a black ink has been spilled on my face. After avoiding all those vibrant-colored hands, a murky, sooty - colored thingy managed to get through my defenses and slapped me right on my face.

Cadiz City celebrates their Dinagsa festival every last week of January. And on the last Sunday of the month, people go out in the street not only to watch the colorful costumes of the street dancing participants or hear the beat of the drums fill the humid air, but also to paint the town red, pink, white, blue or a medley of these shades or more. Yes, I mean literally.

In almost every corner of the street, small tables crowded with small cups filled with different hue of paint can be seen. Most people’s body covering have been coated with bursting tint. The locals looked walking pastiche.

It was a tradition I have not yet experienced until that day. I tried to ward off every hand that tried to creep into my face through my resistant, blocking hands. There were too many attempts that every blockade I made left more colorful pigment on my brown skin. First, the front part and now, my hair. My hair turned white, red but more of blue; I felt so helpless. I combed my hair with my bare hands but the smoothness was bathed with dried colorant. I am starting to regret going to this place.

“Resisting and avoiding are not very good tactics at this kind of fight. The strategy is - retaliate!” my friend of seven years said. This is his hometown. I think there’s no better idea than his so I took a deep breath and whispered to myself, “Let the retaliation begins!”

I immediately went to the corner and bought three cups of yellow, blue and green - my favorites. They would look nice on somebody's face. I bathed my right hands with yellow and fight with all my might. I do not know how human emotion can be so fleeting as this. Just a while ago, I felt almost crying, pissed off with those annoying multicolored, intrusive hands. But, in the middle of painting on a different kind of canvas – not the white paper but on the hair, on the skin, and my preference - on the face - I cannot help smiling. I can bathe them with paint and nobody would mind. At that moment, I know doing this every year would never fail to bring cheer.

Sharing Stories - A Glimpse into Another's Life - Camotes Island –The Unfound Paradise

lastleaf — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 13:02:50 GMT

Smelling the salty, freeing sensation, hair blown feeling by the sea gives reprieve to the loneliness of impending separation from a dear friend. It was on a sunny day, a day where you can feel the heat biting your skin, when she said she’s leaving. The effect of those words were immediate she saw the hurt on every line of my face. She smiled and said, “Let’s go somewhere.”
Camotes is a small island in the middle of the sea that reflects the color not of blue but of emerald. It gives you a feeling of wanting to delve in and just stay in this heaven’s lost paradise. The port is as enchanting as this that a poet would fail to describe it into words. I wanted to stay right there but we had to go to our hotel.
Yet the hotel gives a comparable emotion like that of the port. It offers a person a wonderful view of the sea. It’s vast, clean, peaceful and inviting. The scenery made my heart beat like a drum and it resounds a happy pound.
We had a tour on a habal-habal (motorbike taxi). Every turn of the road, every tree, and every stray dog gives me a sense of serenity. The habal-habal might be rambling but there is an undisturbed peace inside me as we went along our tour. Everything on that place was captivating. The water on the man-made cave (Timubo cave) was refreshingly cold and was clearer than a cloudless sky, an oasis to our cracked dreams and dried up hopes. The setting sun in the Baywalk painted the blue sky orange and the wind blows hard you can hear them speak into your ears. But things as good as these don’t last, do they? As the darkness covered everything that is beautiful, we headed back to our hotel.
Morning came. I saw her beside me. We have been together all our life yet the warmth she brings will soon fade. I had to look away and stop thinking. Then, the sound of the waves caressing the shore reached my senses. I got out of the bed, opened the door and saw what I have been unknowingly looking for. The lemon-colored ball has revealed its rays - signifying hope. I realized that night might dawn on us but the sun never fails. I felt my friend’s presence behind me. I saw her smile – the kind of smile that tells you that no distance nor time can ever change what we have shared together.
Just like this island... the darkness may cover the beauty it possess but as sure as there is night, the light shall reveal its magnificence. Then without words, we raced towards the jade-colored sea laughing our heart out.

Lastleaf's Journey - Straight From the Heart

A Different Canvas In Dinagsa Festival

Sharing Stories - A Glimpse into Another's Life - Camotes Island –The Unfound Paradise